


Kiss My Blues Away

by SweetSorcery



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Awkward Kissing, Clothed Sex, Comedy of Errors, Coming Untouched, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Credence Barebone Needs a Hug, Credence Barebone is a Kiss-o-gram, Don’t copy to another site, Gentle Kissing, Kissing, Legilimency, Legilimens, Love at First Sight, M/M, Male Slash, Matchmaking, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Original Percival Graves Needs a Hug, Pining, Possessive Original Percival Graves, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Slash, Smitten Original Percival Graves, So much kissing, Surprise Kissing, Workaholic Original Percival Graves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSorcery/pseuds/SweetSorcery
Summary: Tina needs a break. Queenie needs to spread happiness. Credence needs to make a delivery. And Percival needs... Credence.





	Kiss My Blues Away

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
> In another, completely unrelated, story of mine, Newt makes a throwaway remark about Kiss-o-grams. Since my mind won't let a single potential Gradence idea slip by unnoticed, especially if it has romantic fluff potential, this happened.
> 
> The title stems from this 1927 song: [**Red Lips - Kiss My Blues Away** , by Leo Reisman and His Orchestra](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5yHeQo3h-E)
> 
> I don't worry when the blues come stealing  
>  I know how to cure them right away  
>  Anytime I get that lonesome feeling  
>  I call up my sweetie and say:  
>  Red lips kiss my blues away  
>  Red lips kiss the night to day  
>  Any old-time that you come cud-dl'- ing near  
>  Isn't it strange the way that the blues disappear?  
>  Red lips hold them close to mine  
>  Sweetheart don't de- lay  
>  Come make a dozen trips, Let your red ruby lips,  
>  kiss my blues a- way!
> 
> All day long her telephone keeps ringing  
>  Other boys have the blues just like my own  
>  Here's the song she always hears them singing  
>  Every time that she picks up the phone:  
>  Red lips kiss my blues away  
>  Red lips kiss the night to day  
>  Any old-time that you come cud-dl'- ing near  
>  Isn't strange that the way that the blues disappear?  
>  Red lips hold them close to mine  
>  Sweetheart don't de- lay  
>  Come make a dozen trips, Let your red ruby lips,  
>  kiss my blues a- way!

It started as a way to cheer up her sister's grumpy boss and if, forever after, she would be blamed for what happened next, Queenie Goldstein was quite willing to take that blame. After all, while it cost her an employee, it made people she cared about happy. It also got her into Cupid's good books; she was rewarded with Jacob in short order.

* * *

"I like Mr Graves, I really do," Tina grumbled to Queenie, one rainy Tuesday as she visited her recently started little business venture, "but I swear, if he doesn't find something other than work to think about, we will all die of exhaustion, not to mention gloom. The man is the worst kind of workaholic, and he expects everyone else to feel the same."

Queenie delicately bit into a challah from Kowalski's Bakery—it was as sweet as the head baker himself. "But Teenie, you love work. You're a career girl."

Tina frowned. "I also like to breathe once in a while and get some sleep. Besides, he's always in a bad mood. It's only lunchtime, and he's already threatened to fire Abernathy three times—not that he doesn't deserve it, struck fear into the hearts of everyone in the Records department, and nearly made his own office go up in flames when a fire call went awry.

Queenie giggled.

"It's not funny, Queenie!" Tina bit viciously into her sandwich, chewed rapidly, then went on. "For the sake of all of MACUSA, that man needs to take a holiday, or fall in love, or... something."

Perking up, Queenie dropped her pastry on the waxed paper and beamed. "Say no more, Teenie! This is where I come in."

"Huh?" Tina looked confused. "Look, Queenie, I know guys buzz around you like bees around a flower, but Mr Graves is, as far as is known, only interested in other bees."

"You're telling a Legilimens, silly." Queenie managed to roll her eyes and rub her hands at the same time. "I've got the cutest bee in mind for him. Just his type, too."

She rummaged around her desk, searching out a small stack of the last few days' editions of _The New York Ghost_. "There was a photo in here somewhere. Ah, here it is!" Queenie folded the paper over so the determined, stern face of Percival Graves loomed under the heading: _What it takes to be an Auror_.

"He's always in the _Ghost_ , so what? You know what he looks like." Tina was frowning.

"Yes, I do. More importantly, so does Credence, and he really likes his stern face."

"Credence? The new boy you hired last month?"

"That's right. A couple of days ago, when we were having a coffee meeting, he spent a full three minutes gazing adoringly at this photo. You should have seen his eyes. I won't even tell you about his thoughts!" Queenie clutched a hand to her heart. "I could hardly breathe. That boy should write romance novels!"

Tina frowned some more. "Wait... you're not running a dating agency, Queenie. And isn't Credence really young? Graves is 40!"

"I run the next best thing." Queenie waved her objections away. "Credence is 22. He's not a baby, Teenie. And so what if Graves is 40? That's nothing for a wizard, and he's as handsome as a movie star, not to mention a good guy!"

"I know he's a good man under all that gruffness, but I wouldn't wish his moods on a young kid like that. Didn't you say Credence came from a really bad home?"

"Yes, he did." Queenie sighed. "And that's why he deserves happiness, and so does your boss, right?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"I'm not going to force them on each other, Teenie, but I have a feeling about this, not to mention a bit of an advantage." She tapped a finger against her temple and grinned. "You have no idea how disarming Credence is, not to mention how pretty. He'd make Attila the Hun come over all gooey and protective. The man in charge of protecting wizard-kind in this country? Piece of cake."

Tina laughed. "So you're going to do what, send Credence to Graves' office with the claim he's been hired as a Kiss-o-gram?"

Queenie smirked. "That's exactly what I'm going to do, but it won't just be a claim. You're going to be the one hiring him."

"What? Oh no, leave me out of this! I don't want to find myself demoted to the Wand Permits department."

"Anonymously, big sister. Sheesh, don't be such a scaredy-cat. You can't spread happiness without a little risk."

Tina didn't think that sounded quite right but, in the end, she went along with Queenie's hare-brained scheme. She usually did. What was the worst that could happen?

* * *

The worst that could happen, as it turned out, was that Credence wouldn't even be able to make his delivery.

Percival Graves, Director of Magical Security, was out in the field the day Credence turned up at MACUSA. He was, in fact, out _all_ day, which meant that Credence—dressed in a lovely cream coloured suit with a matching scarf sporting little red hearts all over it, and a red rose buttonhole, spent the better part of the morning hovering near the reception desk of MACUSA. Then he went away to deliver a kiss across town around lunchtime and hurried right back to wait some more. The same happened again around 3 in the afternoon, and he came back again to wait until all but the elves and the doorman were getting ready to leave.

Feeling dejected, he let himself be steered out the revolving doors. Then he returned to the Spell-a-Kiss office to let Queenie know he was unable to deliver the kiss.

"Aww, honey, he wasn't there at all? All day?"

Credence fell into the chair opposite her desk. He looked at her sadly and shook his head. "I didn't know if you wanted me to come in again today. It's late for you to still be here."

Queenie shrugged. "Oh, I had some work to catch up on." It wasn't a complete lie; she had managed to catch up on some work. Mostly, however, she'd stuck around waiting to hear all about Credence's delivery to Graves and, also, to make sure he hadn't been terrified by the man, as Tina had thought likely.

"Try again tomorrow, okay? My sister says he's a workaholic, but he can't always be doing field work. I'll check with her to make sure he'll at least be a workaholic at MACUSA, not someplace else."

"I will, Queenie." Credence's eyes were lowered and his full lips pouted.

Queenie sighed. She hated seeing people unhappy.

* * *

Credence made it to MACUSA at about 8:30 the next morning.

Graves had started work at 7 a.m. Alas, he had started with a portkey trip to Los Angeles, where he was inspecting a high security facility. Tina, when Queenie had asked her, hadn't known that he wasn't expected back until around 10 a.m.

Credence settled in to wait. 10 a.m. came and went. 11 a.m. came and went. He asked at the reception desk.

"I'm afraid the director decided to check out a report on illegal creature smuggling in Alaska. He should be back by late afternoon."

Credence sighed. He had other deliveries to make and did so, before returning to what was quickly becoming his regular post in the MACUSA lobby.

"Can't you just leave the item behind?" the reception witch asked, craning her neck to look for a package of some kind.

Credence shook his head, blushing. "No, it's to be delivered in person."

"Hm. Okay. In that case, it might be best to try again tomorrow."

* * *

When Percival arrived at MACUSA the following morning, it wasn't through the main entrance where Credence had taken up residence the moment the place opened, but by flooing directly into his office. He had a meeting with Picquery first thing, and it was only two hours later that Abernathy caught up with him.

"Mr Graves, sir, there's a delivery for you at reception downstairs." He coughed uncomfortably and muttered under his breath, "They might have tried once or twice before."

Percival frowned. "What kind of delivery?" As head of security, he was extremely wary of deliveries he had neither requested nor was expecting. "Go down and find out details, Abernathy."

"Yes, sir." Abernathy scurried off.

Percival was enjoying a strong cup of coffee when Abernathy came back, looking awkward and flustered. "Well, what's the delivery?"

"It's a... um, it's..."

"For Merlin's sake, Abernathy, spit it out."

"A Kisso... um, a Kiss-o-gram, sir. It's a Kiss-o-gram trying to deliver a kiss."

Percival nearly upended his coffee over his lap. He set the cup down hastily. "Excuse me, did you say a kiss?"

"I did, sir."

"To me?" Percival shook his head in disbelief. When Abernathy's fidgeting and quick nod confirmed it, he coughed. He had a sudden vision of some garishly attired floozy with head feathers, dancing about in the front lobby of MACUSA, possibly wailing one of those jazz tunes and throwing heart shaped confetti about the place. He leapt up.

"Absolutely not! This is a serious place of business, Abernathy. I'll not have that kind of frivolity going on here, do you hear me?"

"Uh... I do, sir." Abernathy was flustered, looking as guilty as if he had personally ordered the delivery.

Percival prayed he hadn't. "Go back and send that Kiss-o-gram on her way. Tell her I don't have time for this kind of tomfoolery!"

"I-I will, sir, but it's not actually—" Abernathy found himself alone.

Percival had gone off to terrify someone else, leaving Abernathy standing in front of his desk, sweating and contemplating how lucky he was that his negligence in passing on messages wouldn't be discovered.

* * *

The next person unfortunate enough to be the focus of Percival's attention was Tina, who leapt a foot in the air when her boss, brows drawn down over his eyes, swept into her office. "Sir!" she yelped.

Percival blinked and asked suspiciously, "Why does everyone look so guilty today? And where's that report on unauthorised portkey activity across the Atlantic?"

"Guilty, sir? I don't know what you mean." Belying her words, she flushed to the roots of her hair. She quickly turned away and shuffled papers around her desk until she found the report in question and handed it to her boss.

"Can you believe some fool has gone ahead and sent a Kiss-o-gram after me? A Kiss-o-gram, of all things!" he bellowed.

Tina's knees almost gave in. "That's... oh no, that's... weird."

"It's a damn nuisance," Percival said. "Now I'll have to wait for Abernathy to get rid of her before I can head out for a sandwich."

"To get rid of her?" Tina asked, confused. "Sir, you mean you haven't... um... met the Kiss-o-gram?"

Percival snorted. "No, Goldstein, and I don't intend to if I can help it."

"Oh."

Frowning at her, Percival said. "Everyone is acting very strange around here today. And everyone's developed a stutter, too." He snatched the report out of her hands. "Look into it, Goldstein. I'll be in my office."

"Yes, sir," she muttered as he swept out again. She gave it a few seconds, then she ran out as well and headed to the nearest elevator.

She got to the reception desk just as Abernathy was talking to... that had to be Credence. She was surprised, though she probably shouldn't have been. Queenie had said the boy was very pretty. Right now, he also looked very sulky. Knowing that he'd been coming here for three days now to plant a kiss on her elusive boss, she couldn't say she blamed him.

"I'll take it from here, Abernathy," she called out.

Abernathy glared. "Director Graves told me to—"

"Yes, I know. Thanks, Abernathy. I just talked to him myself."

"Well, okay then." He tugged at his cheap tie and walked off, leaving Credence behind.

"Hi, Credence. I'm Tina, Queenie's sister."

"Hello, Miss Tina." He sighed. "That man just told me Mr Graves is unavailable. Permanently."

"What?" Tina frowned. "Well, no, he's here, actually, but he has some strange ideas about Kiss-o-grams, and—"

"He's here?" Credence interrupted, then promptly apologised. "Sorry, but you mean he's actually in and is just refusing to see me?"

Tina nodded, feeling bad for the boy but, at this point, he looked more annoyed than disappointed. It looked rather cute on him. "I'm sorry, Credence, really. I did tell Queenie what a grouch he is..."

Credence's eyes had drifted away from her face, fixing on something over her shoulder. "He's over there." His voice sounded funny.

Tina turned around and watched her boss sneaking, actually _sneaking_ , towards the front doors of the Woolworth building, like a thief, looking around suspiciously. She snorted. "Yeah, that's him, off to get lunch." She turned back to Credence, but he was already walking away, and towards Graves. "Oh no, Graves will hex him!"

* * *

Percival had almost made it. Abernathy had told him the problem was solved, so he was off to get some sustenance. As far as he could tell, there was no heart confetti, and no singing flapper making kissy lips, anywhere in sight. He glanced hopefully towards the exit when, rather suddenly and silently, a tall young man appeared right in his path.

"Mr Graves?" he said. No, not said, growled, if Percival was completely honest.

Percival stared at him in silence. He was aware he was staring, at every inch of his face by turns, and in particular at the dark curly hair and the obscenely plush, beautiful lips. But... well. _Well._ Percival had no idea who the boy was, and he was quite sure he wasn't an employee. He should be, Percival decided, planning to look into rectifying the oversight.

Percival's eyes next moved all over the tall, slender form—dressed in a particularly fetching cream suit with a pastel pink waistcoat and a bowtie sporting pink and red hearts. He felt a smile twitch up his lips but, once he returned his gaze to the boy's face, a stern frown sat between sweeping black brows.

"Merlin and Morgana both!" Percival breathed, fixated on the angry pair of brown kitten eyes. He was just about to embark on another tour of the astonishing face when the boy spoke again.

"Are you Mr Percival Graves, or not? I need you to confirm your identity."

He nodded dumbly. Why did the boy sound so furious? Was it because of his staring? He supposed it was rather rude, even though he could hardly be blamed. He was about to apologise, but didn't get the chance.

"Good. I've been waiting to give you this for three days, and I'm giving it to you whether it's convenient for you right now or not, because I do have a living, and other deliveries, to make." The boy took a deep, shaky breath. "Someone went through all the trouble of wanting to cheer you up, Mr Graves, though I personally don't know why they bothered, as you're clearly determined to be a mean grump."

After those astonishing and confusing words, things became even more astonishing and confusing, because next, the boy cupped Percival's face in his slender hands, leaned in and kissed him.

In all honesty, it was less of a kiss and more of a punch to the lips delivered, however, by such a delightful, soft mouth that it still felt... rather... _oh, that was really, really lovely_... and then it was all over.

"There. I've m-made my delivery," said the angry, beautiful boy, his voice shaky and his lovely face flushed as they stared at each other, lips parted and breathing hard. "Ha-have a good day, Mr Graves, if... if you know how." The boy, only then remembering to take his hands off Percival's face, turned around and made a dash for the revolving doors, nearly stumbling over his long legs in his hurry to get away.

Percival was left standing in the lobby of the Woolworth building, his jaw on the floor, his eyes wide and confused, his hands uselessly up in the air to reach for something... for _someone_ who was no longer there.

Tina, along with everyone else in the lobby who had witnessed the unique occurrence, stood staring at her boss' baffled, lost and rather overwhelmed expression. Tina, unlike everyone else there, quirked a little smile.

"Sir?" she asked, once she reached him. When he didn't answer, eyes still fixed on the exit, she tried again. "Mr Graves, sir?"

He glanced at her then, like a man waking up from a dream. Then his eyes flashed back to the doors and he ran, without saying a word first.

She watched him sprint across the lobby, straight into the doors, which he navigated and spun quickly enough to send a couple of Aurors flying into the building. Tina was left behind, her hand over her mouth.

* * *

Percival made it outside, wildly looking in all directions, but there wasn't a trace of the boy to be seen. How long had he tarried inside? Just how fast was the boy? He was tall, taller than him even. And slender. And he did have those endlessly long legs... Percival had to snap himself out of his daze. Had he apparated as soon as he got outside? _Merlin's Saggy Buttocks!_ How was he ever going to find him again?

He hurried back inside and made straight for the reception desk, ignoring Goldstein's attempts to get his attention.

"The Kiss-o-gram who was here for me, did he leave a card? A name?"

The receptionist jumped at his hissed, urgent words. "Um... no, Director Graves. Just a few messages."

"A _few_ messages? When?"

"Over the last couple of days. I just sent them up to Mr Abernathy to pass on."

Abernathy's days at MACUSA were numbered, Percival decided right there and then. "Why in Merlin's name did you not ask him to leave a card? Why didn't you demand I.D.?" he snarled.

"He didn't enter any part of the building beyond the lobby, sir, and he said he's been requested to come and see you, so I thought you knew all about it," the receptionist explained hurriedly.

"Requested." Percival grinned, a little maniacally, and slapped his hand down on the desk. "Yes, that's it! How many Kiss-o-grams can there be in this city?" he asked the hapless receptionist.

"I really couldn't say, sir."

"Are they self-employed? Do they work for someone?"

"I just don't know, sir!" the reception witch looked desperate for an urgent fire call, or for any emergency to take Graves away quite suddenly.

"Mr Graves," Tina said from beside him.

"Not now, Tina. I need to find someone."

"Yes, sir, I know."

He stared at her and found her grinning. "What do you mean, you know?"

"Well, sir..." She looked unsure whether to point out his utter obviousness, but clearly chose it would be better not to. "I could help?" she offered instead.

"Yes, that's a good idea." Percival paced back and forth a few steps. "Go through the records for every magical establishment in the city, Tina. Find me agencies who employ Kiss-o-grams. And if that doesn't work..." He snarled to himself, then ran his right hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up and to the side. "If that doesn't work, he's self-employed, and I may never find him again."

"Well, sir, you could just ask me," Tina suggested.

Percival threw his hands in the air. "I _am_ asking you, Tina. I'm asking you to check the records! Please, get on with it."

When she gave him a very similar look to the one with which the boy had first approached him, he took a step back.

"You could just ask me for his _name_ , sir."

He blinked. "You know.... you know his name? _Tina!_ Tell me, and the next promotion is yours."

She laughed. "Credence, sir. Credence Barebone. He works for my sister Queenie." She took a card from her coat pocket and handed it to him—it held the name and address of Queenie's company.

A smile warmer than she could ever remember seeing appeared on her boss' face. It quite took Tina's aback. 

"Credence..." He tested the name as if he was sampling an exotic treat. Then he blinked. "Tina, you're a marvel!" He quite unexpectedly grasped her shoulders, pulled her into a haphazard hug, and was off again towards the exit.

"You have another meeting with President Picquery in half an hour, sir!" she called after him.

Percival vaguely waved an arm in the air, holding the business card aloft in his fingers, while he did a 360 degree pivot on the way to the door. "Tell her I'm busy."

"Yes, sir!" Tina shouted with a grin.

* * *

He apparated to the nearest quiet spot he knew to the address on the card and reached the front doors of _Spell-a-Kiss_ within a couple of minutes, taking long, rapid strides. The smallish, pink hued ground level office positively shouted 'property of Queenie Goldstein'. The wide window display held flower bouquets, and heart-shaped balloons bobbing up and down. Percival confidently strode through the front door. A copper bell above it jangled out a cheerful tune.

Percival strode right up to the desk and tapped the bell sitting on the shiny wood with the palm of his hand. Oddly enough, it managed to chime in tune with the bell above the door.

Queenie Goldstein breezed through a set of thick cream curtains from a back office. "Mr Graves, that's a surprise!" she chirped, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Hello, Ms Goldstein. Business going well?" Percival forced himself to be polite rather than to straight out demand to see Credence.

"Oh yes, sir, just fine." Queenie grinned. "Nice of you to come and check on a former employee. I know how busy you are."

"Yes, well." Percival cleared his throat. "There is another reason I'm here."

"You don't say?"

It was clear to Percival that Queenie Goldstein was determined to torment him for as long as he would let her get away with it so, in hopes of gaining the upper hand, he said, "I received a delivery from your company earlier this morning, Ms Goldstein—"

"About ten minutes ago, wasn't it?" Queenie asked cheerfully in lieu of commenting on his unusually flushed and disheveled appearance.

"Uh... yes." So much for gaining the upper hand. Percival raised his chin and gave her the kind of withering look that had never even worked while she was employed by MACUSA. "And the delivery was... faulty, so I wish to return it."

The look still didn't work. She blinked her eyes and tilted her head. "Oh dear," she said, her tone unchanged. "May I ask what was wrong with the delivery?"

Percival huffed, having no intention of telling her that Credence had all but smashed him in the mouth. "I was unprepared."

"Really?" Queenie reached below the counter and opened an appointment book, running a long fingernail down the open page. "I see Credence has been trying to deliver your kiss for three days, and he has left messages each time." She gave him her darkest look. "He's a very busy boy, Mr Graves. He's gone out of his way to keep fitting in trips to MACUSA among his many other deliveries."

" _Many_ other deliveries?" Percival asked, his throat tight and his expression grim. "Just how many kisses does he deliver in an average day?"

"Well, it varies from day to day. There's always travelling times to be taken into account, you see." Queenie slammed the book shut. "And he's quite frequently requested for repeat business."

"I bet," Percival growled.

"Why, right now he's—"

"He's delivering a kiss somewhere right now?" Percival demanded to know, faintly remembering the boy telling him he had someplace to go.

"Oh yes. Why, right across town, in Brooklyn."

 _"Where exactly?"_ Percival was leaning across the counter.

Queenie wagged a chastising finger. "I couldn't possibly give you the address. Client confidentiality, sir, I'm sure you understand."

"Miss Goldstein." Percival fought for calm. "I don't need to be a Legilimens to know you're enjoying this, but if I have to beg you to tell me where I can find Credence, I will."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Mr Graves, Credence is..." Queenie started, but didn't continue. Instead, she gave him a long look, and Percival was quite aware she was rifling merrily through his mind. He decided not to point out that, as far as confidentiality went, that wasn't exactly fair.

At last, smiling kindly, Queenie said, "Means a lot to you to find him, huh?"

Percival raised his brows. "I assume you already know the answer to that."

Evidently, what she had read in his mind satisfied her. She leaned on the counter to scribble an address on the back of her business card and handed it to him. "Good luck," she simply said, smiling.

Percival took the card, nodded, and gave her a soft, "Thank you." Then he turned and left, apparating the moment he set foot back on the pavement and was sure no one was near enough to notice.

* * *

There was no sign of the boy. The address was that of a stationery shop, and Percival immediately went to the shop window and peered in. Credence wasn't inside. He huffed. Was he too late for the next... delivery? He felt heat rush up the back of his neck and tightening his muscles there. The boy was doing a job, and he had no right to feel like this about it.

But he couldn't help it. What if Credence's kisses had this kind of effect on everyone? Heaven knew what a proper kiss not given in anger might do! Along with Percival, thousands of wizards and, heaven forbid, witches possibly as well, might be apparating and flooing all over New York, chasing after him. He decided to pace for a few minutes, just in case; to try and calm his agitation as much as anything. Most likely, Credence had come and gone.

He had just turned on his heel and looked up towards the nearest corner, when he saw him, with a pastry wrapped in paper in his upheld right hand, while he checked the time on a pocket watch with his left.

Percival's heart started pounding, and he took a few long strides towards him. "Credence," he said, as loudly as he thought necessary to be heard, but as softly as possible.

Credence stopped and stared at him, his right hand falling away limply, the pastry slipping out of the paper casing and onto the pavement. "That was my lunch," he said, sounding vaguely mournful.

"I'm sorry. I'll buy you another. May I please buy you another?" Percival took a step closer.

"Why?" Credence asked, meeting his eyes. "And why are you here, Mr Graves?" His voice shook a little.

The anger from earlier had left the boy's eyes, but there was still a depth of feeling in them. They were overwhelmingly expressive eyes, Percival thought, and his heart picked up the pace even more.

"Because I made you drop it. Because I'm an ass. Because I only found out today that you were looking for me; no one told me."

Credence's mouth dropped open at that.

"Because that kiss earlier was hardly a kiss, so I want to return it."

The anger was back. "I did my best, Mr Graves! I'm sorry if I'm not good enough. I'm new at this." Credence glared at him.

Percival thought even that looked rather adorable, even while he wanted to hex himself into a toad. "That's not what I meant, Credence. Please, it was all my fault." Credence was still glaring. His words only sank in then. "You're new at this?" Percival asked, his face lighting up, even he could tell. When Credence nodded stiffly, he asked, "You mean to tell me you haven't been going around kissing half of New York City for months?"

"No, I haven't." Credence all but growled. "But I need to go in there now," he said, pointing to the shop behind Percival. "So if you could please let me pass."

"I can't do that." Percival held his arms out to both sides to create a barrier.

Credence huffed in annoyance, taking a few long strides to walk around him, but Percival was quicker this time, his arms closing around him. "Let me go, Mr Graves." Credence pushed at him half-heartedly.

"I can't, Credence." Percival looked at the flashing eyes, so close now. His voice dropped. "I won't. You haven't let me return your delivery yet."

"If there was something wrong with it, feel free to discard it. There's no need to return it," Credence grumbled, but he sounded breathless.

Percival smiled. "Oh, but I want to return it." And he leaned in to press his lips to Credence's, only to find himself standing in the middle of a Brooklyn sidewalk with empty arms and pursed lips. "Mercy Lewis!" he hissed. "That boy is more slippery than an eel." He hurried to the store front to peer through the window again, but Credence was not inside, so he did the only thing he could think to do: he apparated back to Spell-a-Kiss, and made it in the front door just as Credence slipped past Queenie and into the back office.

"Credence," he sighed, in exasperation, actually dizzy with too many apparitions within the space of minutes, not to mention his need to kiss those damn lips properly.

Queenie looked ready to burst out laughing. "Oh, I guess you must have missed each other."

"Ms Goldstein, I'd like to book the delivery of a kiss. No, make that three, to be delivered all at once." Speaking loud enough to be heard on the other side of the curtains, he elaborated, "One for each failed attempt, and the third to give me a chance to show I'm not an entirely hopeless human being."

There was a soft snort audible from the back office.

"Would you like to book anyone in particular, Mr Graves?" Queenie asked sweetly, giggling when he gave her an icy look. "Credence then, I assume. When would be convenient?"

"Now. Right now." Percival planted himself firmly in front of her counter. "I'll pay... well, everything I have on me, but I'm not moving from the premises until after delivery."

Queenie, smirking, made a show of writing out a booking form, while Percival pushed a pouch across the counter; it contained enough money to keep Queenie in business for at least a month, but he didn't care, and she didn't comment. After tearing the form off her notepad, she turned and held it out through the curtain separating the shop from the office. "Urgent delivery, Credence honey."

He must have taken the form, because she went to the coat rack empty-handed and put on a light pink coat and matching cloche, just as Credence slipped back out into the shop.

"Queenie?" he asked, sounding worried.

"I have some pastries to pick up at Jacob's. You did say you missed out on lunch, right, honey?"

"Yes, I did," Credence said, glaring at Percival.

"I did say I'm sorry about that, and I'd really like to make it up to you," Percival said, but he sounded suitably chastised.

"I guess now's your chance to make up a few things to Credence, Mr Graves. Toodle-oo." And with a jingling of the doorbell, and a surreptitious flicking over of the door sign from 'Open' to 'Closed', Queenie was gone.

They stood looking at each other across the counter.

"I have this booking form here," Credence said hesitantly, holding it up.

"Yes," Percival said softly. "I know."

"It says immediate delivery of three kisses is required."

"That's right." Percival was itching to walk around the counter, but he was done making mistakes with Credence.

"Kisses aren't usually that urgent," Credence stated. He was beginning to look flustered.

"These ones are," Percival assured him, very pleased about Credence's lack of professional detachment.

Slinking out from behind the counter, Credence approached him, looking at him through beautiful dark lashes and biting his red lips.

Lips Percival intended to leave redder than ever. "Why don't we start over with that first kiss, the one you brought to me, and which I was first unlucky enough to miss out on, and then foolish enough to ruin?"

Credence nodded. He raised his hands, which were shaking this time, and framed Percival's face, just as he had done earlier. Then he leaned in slowly, tilted his head, and pressed his mouth to Percival's lips. Gently, this time. And, with every trace of his earlier annoyance gone, his full mouth felt heavenly.

The kiss lasted significantly longer than any of the kisses Credence had ever delivered, with them taking turns changing the angle of their lips meeting, but neither took liberties.

Percival struggled to keep his hands at his sides and his tongue from venturing into the inviting cavern of Credence's mouth, the tiniest sound of need he couldn't suppress sneaking out from between their joined lips. He was just beginning to think that he had never tasted a sweeter pair of lips when Credence drew back, breathing unevenly and with spots of colour high up on his cheeks.

"Thank you, Credence," Percival whispered. "That was truly lovely."

"You're welcome, Mr Graves."

"May I take charge of the second one?" Percival asked politely.

Credence nodded without hesitation. "You can... you can touch me. If..." He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "If you want."

"Oh, I do want," Percival said, aware his voice sounded rough and husky. For a moment, he feared he might drive Credence away with his obvious need, but the boy only looked more flushed; he even leaned towards him eagerly.

Percival's heart was skipping beats in an irregular pattern when he slipped one arm around Credence's waist, the other hand around the nape of his neck, and drew him close, capturing the lush lips in a kiss which started where the previous one had left off.

Credence moaned softly, his hands clinging to Percival's upper back as if his shoulder blades were the only thing standing between him and drowning.

This time, Percival's lips opened Credence's mouth wider, his tongue licking at the red flesh so lightly, he knew it must both tickle and make them more sensitive. The most delightful sounds of astonished wonder came from Credence, along with a sweetness that could not be explained by a bite of pastry a little while ago. Percival reached for more of that taste, sought for it in the depths of Credence's mouth, stroked along the hesitant tongue as though he was scraping honey from a honeycomb.

Credence groaned, his fingers shifting down and clenching harder on a fleshier area of Percival's back.

Percival tightened his grip on the slim waist and the warm nape, the more limp Credence grew in his arms. He was desperate to speak, to tell him how delicious he was, he good he felt, but if he stopped this kiss, there would only be one more left, and he didn't want to let go. He had a feeling he would never want to let Credence go.

"Mr Graves!" Credence gasped then, and the second kiss was over after all, leaving their faces inches apart, eyes soft and unfocussed.

It was worth it, Percival decided, to see how utterly ruined the boy looked—eyes as black as night, cheeks flushed, lips wet and slick, dark curls mussed... when had his hand moved up and done that?

"Oh, Credence," he sighed, pressing his cheek against the hot, pink flesh of Credence's cheek.

"I might... need... a moment," Credence whispered. His hands hadn't left Percival's back.

"So might I," Percival admitted, glad not to be forced to let go of him meanwhile. "Will you count it as a third kiss if I familiarise myself with your lovely neck?"

"N-no," Credence breathed, whimpering when Percival's hand slipped around the side of his neck to tip up his chin with the thumb under his jaw, and hot breath washed over his Adam's apple. It was followed by the rasp of the tongue which had wreaked havoc in his mouth moments earlier; it licked a long stripe up to the underside of his chin. Credence slumped against Percival, one long leg sliding along the outside of the man's, as if to hold himself in place.

Percival gently pressed him back against the counter for stability, moving his leg forward, between Credence's.

Credence gasped and clung to Percival, shivering under the licks and kisses to his neck, and the fingers combing through his hair. He groaned when the firm thigh between his moved in the same rhythm as the squeezing hand on his waist and the kisses, now gentle nips, on his neck.

"You're wonderful," Percival whispered against the column of Credence's neck. "Charming." He kissed the soft patch of skin just below the earlobe. "Sweet."

"You don't know... anything about me," Credence gasped, one hand straying down Percival's spine, fingers lightly pressing against the small of his back.

"Then we'll have a lot to talk about," Percival told him, closing the words with a kiss to his ear. 

Credence made a soft, amused sound even while a ticklish shiver jolted his whole body. "If we can ever stop doing this."

"It'll be difficult, but we're talking now." Percival placed a long line of kisses along the boy's sharp jaw line and, when he reached his chin, he kissed that, then the tip of his nose, before whispering, "Though I think I need to taste your mouth again."

"Oh God, yes please..." 

Credence had barely finished speaking when Percival's mouth covered his parted lips once more, pulling Credence in even tighter, his fingers sliding through his hair, the other hand moving lower, lower, until it curved over the gentle swell of a firm cheek, making Credence moan deep in his throat.

Percival felt drunk on the taste of Credence's lips, his breath, and the way he melted in his arms—where he seemed to fit as if the space had been reserved for him his whole life. 

Percival explored every soft, wet surface of Credence's mouth, playing with his tongue, curling against it, sucking it gently, and groaning when Credence did the same to his tongue. The kiss was well out of hand, their bodies sliding and undulating against each other. 

Each shift of a hand or leg resulted in them moving along the narrow counter, moving around the side of it, where Credence made a soft oomph sound when his bottom hit the low desk. In a moment, he had been lifted by two strong hands and placed there, needing to bend his neck for their lips to stay connected.

Percival pressed forward into the V of his legs. He shifted Credence with his hands until their groins, hips and thighs met in a way that made Credence whimper and gasp.

Percival shushed him, right into his open mouth. Then his teeth closed on his swollen, lower lip, nibbling gently. He closed his lips on it and letting it go only slowly, with a wet sound.

"Don't... stop," Credence whispered, clinging to him. "I... I think I'm..."

Percival held him close, pressing into him. "I've used up all my kisses, darling," he murmured into Credence's hair regretfully. 

Credence pressed back, in desperate little jolts, his fingers playing over the sides of Percival's face, his mouth seeking its counterpart. "I don't care. Please, I need to..." He illustrated his point by wrapping his legs around Percival's hips, lifting himself ever so slightly up and down, groaning.

"Fuck," Percival growled, squeezing the firm arse and rutting forward to meet the thrusts and, fully clothed or not, moments later, Credence made the most delicious sound, throwing his head back and shuddering in Percival's embrace. Wetness spread between them and, with a bite at the side of Credence's neck, and the squeak this caused, Percival added to it.

They were left panting hard, Percival's face in the crook of Credence's neck, Credence's cheek against his temple, their hands petting softly at each other.

"Oh..." Credence whispered at last. He winced a little. "I think... I might be sitting in the appointment book."

Percival, chuckling huskily, lifted him gently and set him down a little to the right, cleaned them both up with a murmured spell, and inspected the scrunched up mess that was Queenie's appointment book. "Are these specifically your appointments?"

Credence nodded, watching him curiously and gasping when Percival incinerated every page in the book at once. "But—"

Percival looked at him then, smiled, and cupped his right cheek in one hand, while the fingers of the other traced the now deep red, swollen, slack lips. "I couldn't possibly share your kisses with anyone else, darling. I'm afraid all your appointments from now on will have to be with me."

Credence blinked at him. "That's going to be very expensive for you. I work full time."

"I'm glad to hear it." Percival lifted him off the desk, but still didn't let go of him. "How about that lunch I owe you now? I don't know about you, but I've worked up an appetite."

Credence blushed, which Percival found rather amusing, considering... "Aren't you very busy, Mr Graves?"

"Percival, darling. I hope I will be busy." Percival tucked a floppy curl behind Credence's left ear. "After lunch, we need to get to know each other better, so I'll know where to take you for dinner." When Credence let out an adorable little giggle, he added, "Do you have any thoughts about dessert?"

Getting his drift and blushing more deeply, to Percival's delight, Credence whispered, "I have a few thoughts." He licked his deep red lips.

"Mmm, so do I." Percival tracked the movement and smirked. "We have a lot in common, you'll see."

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sweetsorcery) or [Dreamwidth](https://sweetsorcery.dreamwidth.org/). Feel free to drop me a message anywhere. :)


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